Midnight Angel
by Shaelesand
Summary: This is a prequel to Queen's Justice. Before she was Chosen Tashti was one of the most feared assassins. Famous for delivering justice when laws failed.


D I S C L A I M E R :

I may have created a few characters but I DO NOT own anything in these stories.  Valdemar, the Herald, the Companions, and most characters are the intellectual property of Mercedes Lackey.  I desire no monetary return on these stories and have written them solely for the enjoyment of myself and others who love Mercedes Lackey's books.  If you enjoy these review here and buy her books.  

Midnight Angel

Darkness was like a blanket on the ancient castle and broad tilled lands.  On the castle's broad walls men moved in near silence.  Only the occasional scuff of a shoe or metal clang of a shifting blade disturbed the night.  Torches were stationed every few feet of the wall leaving almost no shadow in the outer wall below.  

The lone yowl of a tomcat cut through the air made the men jump.  There was no sense of camaraderie among these men, unlike many other garrisons.  All, except the captain of the guard, had been culled from the surrounding farms.  But the only thing hold their loyalty to their lord was fear.  Childhood friendships that might have existed had been destroyed by suspicion.

In the night sky, only stars winked.  The moon was in her darkest stage, the time most feared at the castle.

Suddenly a high-pitched scream echoed off the walls, startling the area's sleeping birds into the air.  Most of the men on the wall stiffened with fear and dread but few were surprised.  A few could hear the pathetic whimpering from some poor tortured soul.  Only one was actually moved to tears.  He stepped back into the shadows so no one would see his grief.

Prayers for mercy from the tormented captive reached upward to the silent gods.

A single shadow melted away from the darker night.  Silent as a spider on its web, the shadow crossed the brief expanse of light and reached the sheer wall.  With no hesitation nimble fingers found invisible hand holds.  Before the next patrol could pass, the shadow gained the top of the wall and dropped silently onto the walkway.  Only to melt back into the shadows around the door as a guard passed within inches.

A whispered word drew the guard's attention, a heavy ring of keys jangled at his hip.  Turning he barely drew in a breath before a hand covered his mouth and he inhaled a noxious blend of chemicals that sent him swiftly into slumber.  As his eyes drifted shut he saw a slim figure that could only belong to a female bend over him.  Her brilliant blue eyes were the last things he saw before the god of sleep claimed him.

Removing the heavy ring of keys she tied them together with a length of silk to silence their jangle.  Not relaxing she pulled a flask of alcohol from a pouch at her waist.  Some she poured down his throat, letting it spill down his cheeks and removed a nearly identical set of keys from another pouch and replaced the stolen keys.

It was not her most creative cover up, but it was more important that it be realistic.  This man, the sergeant's second in command, was a heavy drinker so no one would be too surprised to find him unconscious and reeking of alcohol.  She placed the nearly drained flask inside his tunic and quickly retreated into the shadows again.  A narrow door, long thought rusted shut, swung open at her touch, fresh oil from a previous visit greasing its path.

Inside was an even deeper darkness, but she did not need a light to show her where she was.  She had studied enough detailed maps of the castle to make it through the darkness safely.  She descended a short set of stairs into a hall on the guest wing, which she knew was empty from earlier surveillance.

Another scream, this time weaker than the previous cries, echoed to her but she didn't react.  On a night like this, no guard would dare risk being near by in the event their employers grew tired of their current toy and became the next victim.  Stories of maids who had gotten up in the night to relieve themselves that were never found were told to all newcomers in horrified, hushed tones.

Keeping against the wall she sprinted past closed doors and around tables bearing vases and other flagrant trophies of privilege.

At the end of the hall she took a servant's staircase to the ground floor.  Her target was not on the ground floor but on the third, in a tower only accessible by one guarded staircase.  On the ground floor she emerged into the dark kitchen.  A door in the corner led to a walled garden filled with vegetables and herbs.  This wall she scaled as easily as she had the one surrounding the castle.  Her target was nearly in sight.  A high, narrow window glowed with an unholy light.  A shadow temporarily obscured the light before passing off to the right.  

Crouching behind a thick rose bush, she watched the light and the telltale shadows.  Occasionally wisps of sound and scent reached her.

She did not need to be told that the person who had screamed in pain for much of the now aging night was finally dead.  Something deep within her told her it was too late for them.  Silently she cursed herself.  She had hoped the child would be alive when she came, but her schedule had been immutable.  She had needed the darkness of moon dark, and she had to wait until the guard was lax enough for her to cross with the least less risk of detection.

And someone had died because she had to wait.

She shoved her guilt to the back of her mind, focusing her entire being on the coming task.  Eventually the light dimmed until it was just the flicker of starlight.  She scanned the outer walls for any alert sentries before sprinting across the gardens to the base of the tower.  Here, she paused to remove her belt of pouches and paraphernalia, from it she removed two vials of an amber liquid that glinted like bottled fire in the dim light of the torches.  These, she tucked inside her shirt, and again searched for any watchers in the gardens or on the section of wall visible to her. 

Satisfied, both her senses and her instincts telling her now was the time, she found the first finger hold on the wall.  Only the whisper of silk on stone disturbed the air as she climbed, first to the second story, then to the third with almost unnatural ease.  She paused outside the window and listened intently for any sound and heard quiet mutterings and the rustling of someone moving about.  Instead of descending now that she was safely above the light and hidden in the shadows she shifted her grip and settled in for a wait.  The muttering became grunts and moans with brief shouts of pleasure before the room became silent.

She waited until her heart told her it was safe, then slid through the narrow window with the grace of youth.  This was her most vulnerable moment.  She could not retreat without plunging to the ground below if she was mistaken about the slumber of her victims.

Once safely inside she remained motionless, studying the pair on the bed.

A slight movement caught her eye.  Not one, but two bodies lay against the wall like discarded toys.  One eye caught the light of the flames revealing their fear at her presence.

The pair on the bed slumbered on in ignorance of the intruder.

The wounded girl struggled to get away from her.

The intruder hurried across the space between them.  "Shush, I have come to help."  She whispered.

The girl stared at her in complete fear.

Hesitating, the intruder removed her mask, made of the same black silk as the rest of her outfit.  She had pale blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid.  Her face was unlined and was actually that of a girl who has barely left behind the dolls and toys of youth but her eyes were of a woman who had seen fair worse than what the injured girl had ever heard of.

Swollen lips moved in an attempt to speak.  The intruder laid a finger across the child's lips and the girl slipped quickly into unconsciousness, the abused body not able to fight off even that little amount of the drugs on the doctored gloves.

Blood stained the shift of the abused girl who was at least a year older than her savior.  One eye was swollen shut and her lip was split but she was alive, unlike the girl next to her.  The other girl was lying on her side, her eyes opened and staring sightlessly at the bed.  Both had brown hair and similar features so were most likely sisters, the eldest being the dead one.  

Pushing the girls from her mind she crossed the opulent chamber to the ornately carved wooden bed.  Both occupants were streaked with blood.  Both were almost too beautiful to be real, their savage nature didn't mar their features as the intruder wished it did.  The world would be a safer place if such sadism left an outward mark.  She placed her gloved hand over the woman's mouth.  The woman's heart did not even miss a beat as she slipped into deeper slumber.  Next she pressed her hand against the man's open mouth.  He jerked slightly at her touch but quickly stilled.  She propped up the lord and lady of the castle and tiled their chins to pour the vials of toxins down their throats.  

Their hearts slowed until they stopped completely.

The assassin watched them impassively for a long moment until she was certain they were dead.  Then pulled first the lord off the bed, positioning him in front of the door, his hand out stretched and his face to the side, as if he had fallen there.

Again here she added what reality touches she could.  Neither lord nor lady thought of any but themselves and the woman's side of the bed was farthest from the door so she was positioned several feet behind her husband, on her side as if she had collapsed.  She studied the scene and made a few minute adjustments before turning her attention to the bedding.  Here she pulled some of the blankets off to make it look as if they had been yanked out of place in their mad flight.

The rest of the room she left as it was; the whip over the back of one chair, the chains against the wall, and the body of the dead girl she wouldn't move.  She removed her thin silk gloves, both laced with potions that caused instant sleep, and knelt next to the living girl.  Blood soaked through the knees of her outfit but she ignored it.

Shaking the girl's shoulder she managed to rouse her from the light dosing of sleeping fumes.

She squeaked in terror to see the assassin bending over her.

"Hush, they're dead."  The assassin said in a quiet voice.

"Who are you?"  the girl lisped out.

"I'm Silk."  The assassin responded.  "Is anything broken?"

The injured girl shook her head slightly and whimpered.  Silk couldn't tell if it was a sign she didn't know or that she was fine.

"I am betting something is broken.  I need you to be very quiet while I check, alright?"  Silk said softly as she pushed aside the bloody shift.  A large bruise was forming on her ribs and her lower left leg had an odd angle.

"My brother."  The girl whispered.  "He is here."

"Does he look like you?"  Silk asked.

She nodded slightly.  "His name is Athrin.  He is on the wall-watch tonight."

"Be brave just a little longer."  Silk urged.

"My sister, is she alright?"  The girl asked.

"No, she's dead."  Silk said abruptly, not knowing how to soften the blow.

"She tried to protect me, she kept distracting them."  The girl sobbed then bit back a cry as her broken ribs shifted.

"Don't move, I'll go find your brother."  Silk replaced her black mask and tucked away the stray tendrils then stood and crossed to the window.  Swinging out the narrow opening she descended quickly to the garden, collected her belt, then made her way back, through the guest wing and up the stairs to the wall walkway.  This move was foolhardy in the extreme but the girl did not deserve to die in what Silk had planned.  The man she had disabled before still lay unconscious but it was obvious he had been pushed to the side.

She peeked out on to the walkway and tried to locate some young man who looked vaguely like the girls in the tower.  How could anyone work where one's own sisters were being tormented was beyond her comprehension.  But she had no siblings, she was a foundling, a daughter of the streets, taught to kill before she was taught to write.

The man approaching her had blonde hair and round features.  Not a match for the girls.  Silk waited until he passed before slipping to the next hiding spot.

"I'm telling you.  Athrin's over there sobbing like a babe."  A man said to a compatriot as they stood on the walk talking.  "Poor boy, he's got six more sisters they can take if he so much as shows up late."

"What he do to get both of them taken?"  Another man asked.

"Seems like it was his father, not him who caused this.  I hear the lord thought he was cheating him on the taxes so he took the two eldest as an examples of what happens to those who cross him."  The first man said in a near whisper.  "I doubt the old man ever even thought of shortin' the lord.  Them girl's were fair easy to look upon."

"Careful ye idiot.  The walls have ears hereabouts."  The second man said fearfully.

"Ta make it worse, they ordered him put on the wall closest to the chamber."  The first man said without heeding the second man's warning.

"Ye are a fool, Gamus, I ain't gonna linger a listen to ye."  The second man hurried off.

Silk waited until Gamus had also moved off before retracing her steps.  She passed the door she used to enter the castle and instead descended straight into the garden, hiding in the thick shadows of the wall.  A great expanse of lawn lit by the torches was between her and the section of wall she needed to reach so she hugged the wall as she sprinted towards the area Athrin would be patrolling.  She watched the patterns of the men up above, keeping track of them mostly by the sounds they made, before she located the one stretch where she had not heard anyone move about in for several minutes.  Climbing the wall she peeked over the stones to find a young man standing in the shelter of the doorway to the castle with his back to her.

Glancing left and right she made certain no one else was close enough to hear her.

"Athrin."  She hissed.  The figure in the doorway stiffened and started to turn turned.  "Don't move or say a word, do you understand me?  I was sent by your sister— the younger of the pair—she needs your help if she is going to live."

He turned when she finished speaking and studied the darkness.  "Who's there?"

"I said to be quiet."  Silk ordered.  "Now, I am going to throw you keys to that door, open it as quietly as possible.  Don't let the keys jangle, do you understand me?  Nod if you understand."

He nodded with renewed hope.  She slid the silk wrapped keys out of their hiding spot in her tunic, grateful she had thought to steal them, and tossed them through the air to her new accomplice.  He caught them with only the slight jangle of the key ring itself betraying them.  Both remained still until they were certain there was no danger.

"Open the door and lock it behind you.  Go to the hall just outside the tower.  Don't let the guard there see you.  Wait until I come for you.  Play the hero and we all die, got it?"  Silk said harshly.  She hated relying upon outside support.

He nodded, turned, and unlocked the door.  She waited until she heard the click of the lock engaging before she returned to the ground.  She debated going back in through the guest wing, but knew she would be risking further exposure tracing that long stretch of wall a second time.  Instead she stuck to the wall and continued to follow its path back towards the tower, keeping a wary eye out for guards.  When she was at the closest point between the tower and the wall she waited until she felt safe enough to dash across.  She scaled the wall and entered the tower chamber through the window a second time.  It was starting to smell of death in the chamber, which was not surprising considering there were three dead bodies.

"You came back."  The girl whispered.

"I found your brother, he is waiting downstairs.  I will help you down the stairs then he will take you.  Do not mention me to anyone."  Silk ordered as she finished off a few finishing touches for the staged deaths.

"What are you doing?"  The girl whispered as Silk hauled her to her feet and half carried her to the door.  The girl leaned heavily on her as they avoided the two bodies.  She was unable to put any weight on her leg.

Silk didn't answer but twisted the latch that unlocked the door and listened to the darkness for a second.  If she correctly remembered what she had learned about the castle before staging this assault, there was an alcove for a guard nearly at the bottom of the staircase that was no longer used.  With a gesture to the girl for silence, they started down the stairs.  Silk found the alcove right where she thought it was by searching the wall with one hand.  Placing the girl within its confines she pushed her as much out the stairway as she could.  

Once back up stairs she took a small, partially flaming log from the fire and touched it to the tapestry that hung perilously low over the fireplace.  She let it climb before she severed the cords holding it up.  It crashed to the floor within easy reach of the hungry flames of the hearth.  

The now cold brands next to the fire told Silk why they had a fire burning on a beautiful summer night.  Silk tried not to think about how many people the twisted brands had marked.  People like these made her want to retch.

She stepped back and watched as the fire grew as she had expected it to.  It spread to the stack of wood and then to the furniture.  Silk retreated until she was at the door.  Smoke plumed out the open windows.  It would only be moments before the cry of fire was raised.  She stepped back into the stairwell and used a pair of lock picks to lock the door behind her.

Descending the stairs she waited at a small slot window, barely a few inches wide to wait for someone to see the fire.  It was not long before she was reward by a shout.  She practically ran the last few stairs and hid in the alcove with the injured girl whose breathing was becoming more labored. 

"Just a few more minutes."  Silk promised.

The door to the foot of the stairs opened and the pair of guard stationed there ran up the stairs without even noticing them.

Silk stepped out of the alcove and exited the tower.  Atherin was waiting right where she had ordered him to wait.  "Your sister is in an alcove just inside the doorway.  Get her out before they come back down, and then get the two of you the hell out."  Silk warned before melting into the night like a nightmare.

~ * ~

Atherin leaned against the ancient, knotted apple tree staring blankly at the ripening fruit.  His mind seemed to always be filled with the horror of the night he had helped rescue his sister.  It had been a month and a half now, and he still kept thinking of the strange woman in the dark.  His sister, Lise, refused to say anything about who rescued her – even to her family.

"Atherin, are you coming?  Or are you going to spend all day woolgathering."  His mother called from the house.

"Coming mother."  He called back and pushed away from the tree.  Since the fire that killed the lord and lady he, and almost every other member of the guard, had returned eagerly to their homes and tried to rebuild their lives.

His mother stood in the doorway until she saw him coming.  She believed it had been an angel that had saved her daughter that horrible night and guided him to her.  Atherin wasn't so certain.

They had been unable to open the room before the fire had consumed all of it and the upper floors.  It seemed the lock on the heavy door had melted so much that the keys kept by the sergeant's second in command refused to unlock it.  When it was opened by brute force they found the charred bodies of the lord and lady where they had fallen trying to escape the inferno.  No one questioned the accident, and when it was discovered that Lise had managed to miraculously escape, the inferno and the escape was actually attributed to the ghost of the elder daughter, Anslyn. 

His mystery lady might not have been an angel, but he highly doubted a mortal could have achieved what she had done.

"Hale sir."  A female voice haled him from behind.  A young girl with copper bright hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes waved to him in greeting.  Across her back she had a harp case and a ratty backpack. 

"Would it be possible for a wanderer such as meself to find a bit to eat in exchange for a song?"  The minstrel asked.

Atherin estimated the girl's age at about fifteen or so, young to be on the road alone but not unheard of.  Something about her tugged at his memory.  

 "I see no reason why not lady harper.  Mother, we have a guest."

His mother reappeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.  "A minstrel, how wonderful!  Please come in."

The girl made a sketchy bow.  "I was hoping to sing for my supper and perhaps a chance to weather the night in yonder barn."

"Ooh, why you even talk like a minstrel should.  My husband will be delighted to let you sleep in the barn."  His mother said enthusiastically.  Now that the risk of her remaining daughters vanishing in the night had evaporated, apparently by the shade of her eldest daughter, her moods had lifted until Atherin barely recognized her.

The young minstrel was placed in the traditional seat of honor closest to the kitchen hearth, which Atherin knew was not the best place to be in this weather, but the girl did not complain.

"Ather, go fetch me whatever ripe apples we have.  We'll have a pie tonight."  His mother ordered.  "Now dear, where are you from?"  She immediately started a happy patter of questions.

Atherin gather a few ripe apples all the while pummelling his brain for why the minstrel girl seemed so familiar to him.

"Ather, what are you doing out here?"  Lise asked as she limped into view.  She had a half eaten apple in one hand and a cane occupying the other. 

"A minstrel just turned up so mother is making apple pie."  Atherin explained.

"A minstrel?  Oh, I hope he is good."  Lise said with a spark of her old excitement.

"She actually, and she is young so I doubt she is any good."  Atherin shrugged.

Lise snorted.  "Just because someone is young does not mean they aren't good at something."

Atherin rolled his eyes but did not argue.

Lise helped pick what apples she could reach then accompanied him back to the house.  They had just entered hearing distance when he froze.

"Ather?"  Lise looked up at him in confusion.

"It's her."  He whispered.  The minstrel girl's voice had lost the formal tone and he recognized it immediately as the voice from That Night.  

"Who's who?"  Lise asked in exasperation.

"It's nothing."  Ather shook it off and continued into the house.  The girl was telling a story about a lord from another country that had his mother chuckling as she prepared the crust for the pie.

"Ah, he has returned, and there is Lise.  This is Rysha.  Lise, you start peeling those apples then find the girls and get them all washed up.  Ather, I want you to go find your father."  His mother ordered him out again. 

Atherin sighed, rolled his eyes but obeyed his mother, glad to be able to.

By the time he found his father and returned with him, his seven sisters, three brothers, and his mother had already settled around the table.  The seats around the minstrel girl were already filled so he was forced to content himself with a seat at the opposite end of the table.  With every sentence she spoke he became more certain that she was the one who had been there that night.

His father sank into the chair set aside for him with a thud and glared at the gaggle of children at the other end, and his wife.  "We don't have the food to take in strays."  He grumbled in his usual gruff manner.  "We can barely feed our own."

The girl looked around, both guilt and upset on her face.  "I didn't mean to put any strain on your house, I swear, sir." 

"She can hab my food."  The youngest girl, all of four with a slight lisp volunteered.

"Hisik!  Be polite!"  Their mother chastised her husband.  "You aren't a burden.  Some music is wonderful.  Now you eat up."

It was obvious after that that the girl did not take nearly enough to fill herself.  When pie was served she took only a tiny sliver.  Afterwards everyone, including his father gathered around her to listen to her songs.  She was no bard but she was good.  She stopped to rest her fingers and told stories to the younger ones who were delighted to have a minstrel to entertain them.

"She could sleep with the girls."  Atherin heard his mother whisper to his father.  They all knew that no matter how gruff their father was he would move mountains to please his wife.  "Look how thin she is.  And just think how welcome music will be this winter."

"Very well."  He grumbled as he caved in quickly.

Rysha played well into the night, most of the children were asleep when she finally pled exhaustion and made her way out to the barn.  Atherin waited until he was certain everyone else was asleep before creeping out to the barn.  

"Rysha?"  He called as he pushed the door open.  "Where are you?"

A jangle caught his attention.  On the back of the door, hanging on a peg was a heavy purse.

Lifting it down he felt coins shift in his hand.  "Rysha?"  He checked in each stall and in the hayloft and found no trace of the girl.  Heading inside he sat at the table and stared at the purse.  How could a fourteen or fifteen year old girl accomplish everything that occurred that night?

A footstep behind him made him jump.  His father peered at him through the darkness.  "What are you doing up?"

"I went to talk to the minstrel.  She's gone.  But she left us this."  He held out the heavy purse.

His father took the purse and opened it.  Within was enough silver and gold coins to see them through the next five years at least.  

"Father, she was also the girl that rescued Lise.  I recognized her voice."  Atherin added.

"Lise's angel?  That little girl rescued her?  Are you daft?"  His father looked at him in disbelief.

"I am serious, that was her."

Both remained silent for a long moment.

"So, now what are we going to do?"  Atherin finally asked.

~ * ~

The tavern was nearly empty when the last travelers came in.  She was slender, elegant and moved with incredible grace, like she was dancing.  A sword was strapped to her back, it looked like it was forged there.  Her golden hair was in a simple braid down her back.  The man was taller than her by several inches with midnight black hair and moved with the prowl of a predator with a sword and a long knife at his side.  Both wore clothes coated in dust from the road and traveling cloaks.

The man walked just a few steps behind the woman, his hand on a long knife.  He had the air of a protector.

The innkeeper looked up at their approach and nearly dropped the bottle he was putting away.  There, in the flesh before him was the girl that had vanished over a decade before.  The girl he had named the tavern for—the Midnight Angel.  Her hair was no longer red and her freckles were gone but he knew with unshakable certainty that it was her.  It was something in her movements and alert eyes. 

The money she had left his family had been used to purchase this tavern.  Both his parents had died happy, secure, and wealthy.  His sisters had all married well, except for the youngest two who were upstairs sleeping.  His brothers all had moved on to careers in the king's army.  He had had his fill of living by his sword while serving the lord and lady that had terrorised the area until the blaze.

"How much for a room and boarding for two horses?"  She asked, he voice had grown a little huskier in the intervening years but he still recognized it easily.

"Rysha!"  Atherin grinned a greeting.  "For you, my best rooms and I will not take a penny for them."

She smiled slightly.  "I think you are mistaken, sir."  Her voice betraying her amusement.  

Atherin felt a flame of disappointment in his soul at his error until he noticed the amused glint in her eyes.  "My mistake my lady."  He stepped behind the bar and poured them each a glass of cider.  "Does business or pleasure bring you through our sleepy little town?"

The man leaned over to whisper something in her ear, which earned a laugh and a blush.  "Not business."  She told him as she accepted the cider.  "We are just passing through."

"A toast then, 'To midnight angels,'"  Atherin said boldly and lifted a mug in salute toast.  "May they always keep innocents safe in the darkest hours!"

The man looked down at her and cocked an eyebrow.  It was obvious that there was love between these two.  She shook her head but the man raised his glass and echoed the toast.  "To midnight angels."

"And may she have all her heart desires."  Atherin added.

"I'll drink to that."  The man agreed.  

With only a quirk of an eyebrow, the woman he had met only twice before in his life, and yet made such a difference raised her mug adding,  "And to the men who have the courage to help them." 


End file.
